


In the Waking

by wednesday



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17624429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: “Not injured, just tired.” He was pretty sure he wasn’t bleeding out, at least. Everything else could wait until he got some damn sleep.





	In the Waking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Welsper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/gifts).



Geralt could have walked up to his room without Iorveth’s help, if he absolutely had to. Thankfully Iorveth took pity on him. Either Geralt looked dead on his feet, or Iorveth felt like leaning on someone himself; Geralt couldn’t tell.

The moment the door closed, Iorveth let go of him, and Geralt collapsed on the bed.

“You are heavy, witcher,” Iorveth complained. “Which potion do you need?”

“Not injured, just tired.” He was pretty sure he wasn’t bleeding out, at least. Everything else could wait until he got some damn sleep.

Iorveth made a noise halfway between disgust and disbelief. Geralt could hear the sound of flasks being rifled through. He did his best to remove his boots, out of habit more than anything. He wasn’t quite sure he succeeded – everything felt like floating on an unsteady cloud.

Geralt felt distantly the cool glass against him lips, swallowed the potion. Some time later, he had no idea how much, Geralt felt the bed dip and a weight settle across his thighs. Something touched his lips again and, oh, a kiss. Iorveth was kissing him. Geralt reached up through the fog of sleep and put his hand on Iorveth’s cheek, moved him into a better angle to deepen the kiss.

The next moment he felt a stinging pain from where Iorveth had slapped his hand away.

Suddenly he was awake in a way he hadn't been before, certain he was no longer lingering in dreams. This was real, Iorveth was really here, in bed with him.

Geralt stared at Iorveth for a long while, trying to understand what this was. He wasn't sure what Iorveth wanted from him and even less sure what he himself wanted, and he couldn’t find the will to think about it.

He raised his hand towards Iorveth, only for it to be slapped away again. Frowning, he tried to sit up, but Iorveth pushed at his chest and when Geralt fell back down on the bed, Iorveth caught his wrists and trapped them against the bed, his hold too tight. It made him lean forward, his breath hot against the side of Geralt's face.

“Don't touch me,” Iorveth whispered harshly and bit the line of Geralt's jaw forcing a choked moan from him.

He tried to twist his wrists, but Iorveth's hold was too strong and as he'd suspected, he wasn't strong enough to fight it without a lot more violence than he'd like. Iorveth continued leaving bite marks on the underside of Geralt's jaw.

Geralt arched his back, leaned up and pressed against Iorveth, this time making him gasp and press back. While he was distracted, Geralt turned his head until he could reach and captured Iorveth's mouth in another kiss, tasting of honey and something bitterly poisonous.

Iorveth released one of Geralt's hands in order to unlace his trousers. Geralt tried to reach for Iorveth, finally touch him again, but was distracted by the Iorveth brushing against his hardness. He broke the kiss, whispered a string of curses and tried to thrust up against Iorveth, only to be stopped by him sliding a hand inside his clothes and wrapping it around his cock.

Moving his hand a frustrating slow rhythm, Iorveth pressed his whole body down against Geralt's. Geralt's growl was muffled by Iorveth's kiss. He kept getting distracted by the curl of Iorveth's tongue against his own, by the feel of his hand on Geralt's cock, too slow and yet perfectly confident.

Iorveth kept rolling his hips against Geralt's thigh and at some point he did manage to concentrate long enough to reach for the laces of Iorveth's trousers. He didn't get much further than clumsy fumbling, though, because one of his hands was still restrained. Mostly he was constantly distracted by the overwhelming sensation of another person so close to him.

After a few of Geralt's unsuccessful attempts to disrobe him, Iorveth breathed a frustrated sigh against Geralt's lips and without breaking the kiss, released Geralt's other hand and opened his own trousers.

Geralt used the pause to finally reach up and slide both hands into Iorveth's ink black hair. Iorveth whined low in his throat and his hand on Geralt's cock stilled completely. Geralt thrust up into his hand, and after a pause Iorveth released him, making Geralt break the kiss and swear out loud.

“ _Iorveth_ ,” he growled and tightened his grip on Iorveth's hair.

“Be patient,” whispered Iorveth and a moment later he aligned his own cock against Geralt's and started stroking them both.

Geralt started trailing sloppy kisses on the side of Iorveth's neck, too uncoordinated to manage kissing and breathing at the same time anymore. Iorveth leaned heavily into his kisses, but Geralt didn't have enough of a mind left to figure out why, every moment bringing him closer.

He tried thrusting into Iorveth's hand, speeding up the rhythm, but Iorveth didn't oblige, rather he slowed down for several moments before resuming the same speed as before. Geralt would have thought him unaffected but for his harsh and fast breathing and the way his cock twitched against Geralt's.

Iorveth kept stroking them both, his hold ever slightly tighter than Geralt would have used. Geralt was so close to the edge, but the strokes were still a bit too slow to quite get there.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered against Iorveth's neck and groaned a moment later when he complied and sped up his strokes. Geralt could feel his orgasm approaching, hips tensing and relaxing and tensing again. It took another dozen strokes until he bit the side of Iorveth's neck to keep himself from shouting and finally came.

Through the haze of pleasure he felt Iorveth speed up and heard his muffled moans.

Geralt hoped Iorveth was also about to come right then, because coming had taken the very last of his strength and despite his efforts to stay awake, he felt his hold on the world fading.

  
  
***  
  


Consciousness returned to him slowly, first tied to a feeling of someone's fingers running through his hair. After that the sense of time returned, vaguer than usual, but he was certain it was still a while until dawn. He felt strangely relaxed and well rested for the amount of sleep he'd had.

A warm hand ran down his spine, all the way from the back of his neck to the curve of his ass. It woke him up more and made shivers run down his sides and up along his skull. He tried to turn over on his back, but the same hand pressed down firmly between his shoulder blades.

“Don't get up, Gwynbleidd. It's early.” Even quiet and mild, Iorveth's voice was easy to recognize, and it brought along the hazy memory of last night. Geralt froze for a long while, undecided. He should have, what, turned around, tried to talk? He probably really should have, but he had not the faintest idea what to say, so he stayed still.

“I have to go soon, though, if I want to leave without notice,” Iorveth said, his face close enough that Geralt felt each word move the hair on the back of his neck.

Iorveth ran his fingers down Geralt's back several more times catching slightly against the raised edges of scars, leaving him feeling shivery and relaxed, arching very slightly into the touch. Iorveth made a quiet sound and his hands retreated from Geralt. He was somewhat disappointed, but kept still and tried to remember the exact paths Iorveth had just traced on his skin.

The quiet shuffling sounds stopped, and Geralt assumed he was alone again, but a moment later Iorveth returned, joined him on the bed and pressed against Geralt's back. He was fully naked, as far as Geralt could tell, same as Geralt himself.

With a content sound Geralt relaxed and tried to press back as much as he could. Iorveth felt pleasantly heavy, his skin cooler than Geralt's sleep warmed body. He felt Iorveth's hot breath on the side of his neck, followed by lips sliding up until his hairline, then back down until the line of his shoulder.

Iorveth bit down on Geralt's shoulder and thrust his cock against Geralt's ass in a slow slide. One of his hands slid under Geralt's shoulder and the other curved around Geralt's hip to hold him in place. He trailed kisses and bite marks across Geralt's shoulders and the back of his neck, all the while slowly thrusting against his ass. It was maddening, and Geralt tried to push his hips up to make Iorveth get on with it.

“On second thought, you have convinced me to stay a while longer,” Iorveth said in a rough voice.

Yeah, they could talk about all of this later. Or never, as long as Geralt kept finding Iorveth in his bed.

  


End file.
